And presently Fenwick, placed at his ease, began for the first time to expand, became argumentative and explosive.

In a few minutes he was laying down the law in his Westmoreland manner--attacking the Academy--denouncing certain pictures of the year--with a flushed, confident face and a gesticulating hand.

Watson observed him with some astonishment; Lord Findon looked amused--and pulled out his watch.
'Oh, well, everybody kicks the Academy--but it's pretty strong, as you'll find when you have to do with it.' 'Have you been writing those articles in the _Mirror_ ?' said Watson, abruptly.
'I'm not a journalist.' The young man's tone was sulky.

He got up and his loquacity disappeared.
'Well, I must be off,' said Lord Findon.

'But you're coming to dinner with me to-morrow night, Cuningham, aren't you?
Will you excuse a short invitation'-- he turned, after a moment's pause, to Fenwick--'and accompany him?
Lady Findon would, I'm sure, be glad to make your acquaintance.